Fools
by lyin
Summary: Once there were two brothers named Prewett, a McKinnon girl who danced and died, and a Black who could never be serious...
1. Heroes

A/N: I love reviews. Thanks to everyone who has, and will review this story, I threw a lot into it and it means a lot. Reviews are the only payment I'll ever get for this, so if you could take the time to tell me what you think, however briefly, I'd really appreciate it. Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top? Sirius on top? ;) (and he's in chapter two, if you care to keep reading). This, I suppose, is a five-shot- the sort of story I could only write on fanfiction. Enjoy.

(And, oh, it's not really mine. I just like to pretend. :) )

* * *

_"...Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian..."_

_"And then, to see them surrounded by all those other happy faces... Benjy Fenwick, who had been found in bits, and Gideon Prewett, who had died like a hero, and the Longbottoms, who had been tortured into madness... all waving happily out of the photograph forevermore, not knowing that they were doomed..."_

Fabian Prewett doesn't seem to be in the photograph. This story started there.

* * *

As always, they stood together.

The two men were angrier than usual. The air cracked still from their arrival, and the slightly slighter man leaned back against a lamppost. The broader one crossed his arms and boyishly rocked a touch forward on his toes in his own half-lean.

"Don't you want to be a hero, Fab?" Gideon Prewett was all earnestness, like he was wheedling his way into second helpings or out of trouble.

"No," replied Fabian Prewett, without looking up.

Gideon's mouth fell a touch agape, a silent oh. "...Why not?"

Fabian scuffled his feet and grinned. "No consuming desire to share a title with a Muggle sandwich and a load of dead men."

His brother scoffed. "Not all heroes die."

"'Course they do."

Gideon rubbed at his chin in consideration before running with it. "Well, yes, eventually of course, but not everybody gets knocked off in the middle of _heroing..._"

"You're not naïve enough to believe that," Fabian interrupted, straightening.

"Sure I am," said Gideon, shrugging. Fabian began to pace in the circle of light puddling around them on the sidewalk.

"Gideon... you've been called a lot of things, sure enough, half of 'em by me, and most're true enough. But I never thought anybody could call you _gullible_. Don't prove me wrong. This vigilante nonsense of our madcap mentor back there?" He jerked his thumb for emphasis, face taut. "It's not for us. I want you with me on this."

Gideon Prewett rubbed at his eyes, half-smiling. "Fab, when haven't I been with you? But ye gods, man, if you're not gonna give me a reason for this besides not wanting to be associated with lunchmeat and corpses..."

"Don't be a git," Fabian snapped. He forced his tone back to his regular cadence before he spoke again. "Look... it's just... we're not the hero sort."

He received a quirked eyebrow for his pains. "Oh. Now there's a particular sort?"

"'Course there is. We've met a few of 'em," he said, letting his hands slip into his pockets. "Heroes are fools."

Gideon's face broke into an easy grin. "That's us."

Fabian shook his head weightily. "Nah. I don't reckon so. We're clever enough to duck when Bludgers come our way, aren't we?"

"Or hit 'em at someone else, yeah."

His smile drooped under the most measured stare Fabian could muster. "Well, this is a Bludger we're better off ducking if we want to stay in one piece."

Gideon let a low sound of disgust rise from his throat. He half-turned away, foot skimming the curb. "You're on with all this metaphorical stuff again, aren't you. You've been spending too much time with Hestia, mate, it's turning your mind to mush again. Reckon-"

"I'm _seri-_ not jesting, Gideon."

"No?"

He clapped his brother on the shoulder, spinning him around and holding him there. "Gid, I like where my life is going. I like where your life is going. I'm not keen on ideas that'll end with our end. Especially when it seems it'll be premature. And sticky. Invariably, it'll be sticky if we try to play hero."

"Oh, _come off it._"

Fab's voice rose with annoyance. "Heroes end stickily. _Stickily_, Gid. That's not a happy picture."

"Here's where you're a bit confused,"said his brother. He patted the hand on his shoulder with mock gentleness."Heroes, they're the good-looking fellas who come out on top and ride into the sunset with the distressed damsel."

He pulled his arm back. "No, Gideon, they don't. Heroes lose the girl, ride off into the dark west and die alone."

"They-" Gideon gaped at him briefly, jaw spasming. He held back his laugh under Fabian's remonstrating gaze, but couldn't keep his bemused indignation from his eyes. "Who'll die alone? I got you, and then there's me. And Molly and her brood, 'course. We're not alone."

"Heroes are always alone," Fabian said, expression sage. "In the end. And there's always an end."

His brother's brow furrowed. "Most've 'em did alright for themselves."

"Oh?"

"'M sure."

"Name one."

Gideon sputtered. "Merlin, don't go putting me on the spot-"

"Pinned in a tree forever and ever by some soggy strumpet," Fabian retorted at once.

Gideon blinked. "I wasn't naming him! But if you're on about it, that Arthur fellow- the King, not Molly's, he did alright for himself…"

"Lost his wife to his best mate and killed by his bastard son who wrecked the kingdom? Sure, sounds _alright_..."

"Okay. Right." He frowned."But he'd slept with his sister, which wasn't very hero-like, plus, y'know, inbreeding... and wasn't he supposed to come back someday?"

"Kiddie stories. Because it's nice to think that when you're right and noble, everything works out okay."

"Nothing ever happened to Robin Hood. He got a title and the dame…"

"Until she died a year or two later and Robin got bored, went back to the forest, ended up bled to death by a lady cousin he trusted…"

"…Ah."

"Never heard that part before?"

"Well, no…"

Fabian nodded again. His neck was getting sore. "Molly skipped the epilogue when she read that to us. Not child friendly."

Gideon's eyebrows pulled still closer in deep thought. "The Greek fellow, though, the one gone for twenty years who came home to a faithful wife after all those adventures? He made out all right."

Fabian leaned against the lamppost again. "Wasn't much of a hero. All his mates died while he did his best just to make it home. He was mad clever, though," he allowed, mulling. "Still, he ended up playing hero anyways, didn't he? And know what happened? He finally got whacked off by a wizard who happened to be his own son, thanks to his bit of fiddle-diddle-dee with Circe while his wife was waiting so faithfully…"

"Where'd you hear_ that_?" sputtered Gideon, hand in his hair with frustration.

"It's on the back of Circe's Famous Witches and Wizards Card. Must be true."

Gideon ran his hand through his mop of hair, rubbing the back of his head in annoyance, before thrusting his hand out in another attempt. "Look…"

"All these heroes Molly liked so much?" said Fab, cutting him off. " The handsome ones in shining armor? They all got their heads lopped off and stuck on spikes and their entrails strewed across the ground and eaten by crows and ravens and vultures…."

"Sheesh, Fabian!"

He raised a finger knowingly. "Told you. Sticky."

Gideon's arms folded. They were back where they started, Fabian with black-painted metal supporting his spine and Gideon with nothing to lean back on. Gideon kept his feet flat this time. "When exactly did I turn my back while you went and became a cynic overnight?"

"When we were asked to go and get ourselves killed just because some overgrown school boy with identity issues decided only people with a certain kind of blood are the right sort of people, that's when. I'd say around twenty minutes back. Didn't realize you'd missed it." His tone was light, but Gideon knew his twin too well to miss the fringe of bitterness.

"They're not asking us to die….."

Fabian drew upright, jabbing a finger at Gideon's robes. "Lay our lives on the line is pretty tantamount to asking us to die for 'em. And I- I got things to do, Gideon. You got things to do."

His twin stepped back, spreading his arms out expansively as if stretching or readying for a bear hug. "What could be more important than this?"

"The kind of hero they're asking for… it makes it a right and noble sacrifice to go and get offed to save some strangers!" He looked away and down before meeting Gideon's square gaze once more with a shrug. "Sometimes it's harder to live, y'know? To go and work everyday and raise a family and protect the folk who love you and who you-"

"So you'd let the rest of the world go to blazes because Fabian Prewett thinks it's more heroic to crawl in a hidey-hole and ignore the wolves huffing at the door?"

"It'd make us targets, Gideon! It'd make Pops, Molly and Arthur, Billy and Charlie and Perce and the one in the oven, Hestia… might as well dress 'em and stick the apple in their mouths ourselves…" His arms flopped limply at his sides. "I can't let that happen…"

Now Gideon was angry, advancing. "So we let others do it for us?" he spat. "Let them run the risks? They love their families too. They're still doing what's right."

Fabian hesitated. "Gideon, if you could save ten strangers or me and Molly, who'd you save?"

He didn't even hitch. "You and Moll, naturally."

"The people in there?" Fab said, jerking his thumb at the building behind them. "They're better than us. They'd save the strangers."

Gideon rolled his eyes. "You're not telling me _Black's_ any better than me. You're not telling me he'd save strangers over Potter. No matter how pretty they were."

"He would- if Potter told him too. And Potter would. Especially if they were pretty."

"Mhmm. Doubt it."

"Well, everybody in there's willing to give their lives for this great cause. Their families' too? They're not thinking that far."

"Fabian." Gideon smiled, rueful.

"What?"

"You're being selfish."

He answered with disbelief. "For not wanting my entrails strewn?"

There was a pregnant pause. "I don't think they do that anymore."

"Have you _met _Bellatrix Black?"

"Lestrange," he corrected.

"What?"

"She got married. While back."

"Did she? Really?"

"Yep."

"Sweet Merlin. Imagine. Her, as a _mother_…"

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_…."

Collectively, they shuddered.

After a moment, Fabian cleared his throat. "But generally, I mean… I don't want this, Gideon. I thought… I used to think living in interesting times would be…"

"Interesting?"

"Well, yeah. But after a while… how many times can we get lucky? How many fireworks can backfire before one blows me to smithereens?"

"Or me," interjected Gideon, looking insulted his capacity to explode was in question.

"Be _serious_. No, no, _don't say it_- but honestly, they always backfired on me."

"Lady Luck likes me more," he said, eyes flashing tauntingly. "Just like Mother and Molly do."

Fabian threw his neck back in exasperation, face rising to the cloudy black sky. "Oh, for heaven's- Look, Gideon! I'm- we're- not even properly grown-up yet, and we're getting crows' feet from trying to stop these night raids and Muggle hunts with the Hit Patrol, and now you want a side job that marks our houses for these madmen to move onto when they're wearied of tormenting Muggle-borns? That's what you want? So we can have a jolly old adventure and get medals, maybe someday, and you can get a chance for a few extra shots at Wilkes and a chance to show Black up in front of McKinnon?"

"That's not-"

He wouldn't be halted. His face was red with embarrassment, fury, fear, any baker's dozen of messy things. "Do you think it's not tempting? That it doesn't seem grand and glorious, might over right and all of that, like the Knights of the Round Table? _Do y'know what happened to them_?"

"Fabian….."

He brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes with his palms. His fingers curled in. He opened his eyes into his life-lines, breathed deeply, and lowered his hands. Gideon's eyes were wide, with either confusion or anger. He wasn't sure. "Gid… I'm no hero. I want some place to hang my hat, where I can come home and, and… grow things, and have dinner with my girl, and maybe someday, have, y'know, ickle Prewetts running around who'll raise hell…"

"_You think I don't_?"

From the way Gideon reeled and his head reared back, Fabian knew he'd struck him.

"Yeah, Gid," he said, blowing air out of his cheeks, deeply annoyed. He gestured low, dismissively. "I do. It's in your eyes. When we duel for practice, when we're arresting some stupid bastard on a FWI, when Molly read us stories when we were kids, when somebody mentions how you're shaping up to be _officer material_-"

"Shut it."

"Gideon-"

His voice dropped, harshening. "I told you to shut your trap, Fay. You're my brother, and I love you, but you're being a right bastard, Mum pardon me for saying it."

"Gid-"

"There are so many things more important than you and your little world. There are-"

"Gid-"

"-things worth dying for, dammit!"

"There are things worth living for, too."

Their gazes locked, even.

"A man's got to stand up. Someone's got to."

"It doesn't have to be us," he replied, low.

"It has to be me." Gideon was almost apologetic, but firm.

"But-"

"If I didn't, if I let somebody else take the fall for something I can do, to stand back and let someone else run ahead and try to protect folks not so different from me and kids like Billy and Charlie-"

"Gi-"

He waved him off, the passion of his tone mounting. "I couldn't live with myself. Is it so wrong that this fight, and everything it stands for, means more to me than anything I've done or anything I can do?"

Fabian shot him a bemused blink. "Now you're just being melodramatic."

"It's past time to kid around!" Gideon answered hotly, arm shooting out. "If someone doesn't fight, then all the standing aside in the world's not gonna do us any good. It'll be Arthur with his Muggle thingamabobs and the kids next! That's after they've knocked off Madam Meadowes and the pretty Evans girl because their blood's not pure…"

"So now working for the law's not enough? We have to feckin' be it, too? What's it Pops always said about vigilantism?"

"When it's not enough, YES!"

"Gideon… it's suicide."

"Not necessarily. It's brave, that's all."

"Fine line between bravery and stupidity."

Gideon shook his head. "No line at all."

Fabian frowned. "You at least see that it's stupid, then?"

"Somebody's got to do stupid things. I happen to be a professional."

"Gid-"

"No, no, I get it. Somebody's got to watch out for our own. And somebody's got to stand up."

"_Gid_eon-"

"Good thing there's two of us, eh?" He looked away. "Don't worry. I can watch my own back."

"I-"

"Never had to before, but I can do it, right? Got a sister who told me there wasn't anything I couldn't do if I simply _applied _myself. For once I should maybe get cracking. Take things _seriously_. No pun intended."

His brother reached out and grasped his arm. "Think-"

Gideon smiled lopsidedly, the faint imprint of a dimple danced like a phantom over his freckled cheeks. "Don't want to. My thoughts'll invariably turn to entrails and heads on pikes and general stickiness. And well, if I'm gonna play the hero, I might as well get started…."

"Wait, I'll-"

Forcibly, he shrugged off Fabian's arm. "Ah, fuck off, Fab. I don't want to hear it. Can't hear it. Got bigger fish to fry." He forced a laugh, and the sound bit into the cold air as his breath emerged like smoke.

Together, they watched the foggy tendrils fade and continue to emerge in steady puffs, vanishing into the night again and again.

"Waste of breath to argue with you, hmm?" Fabian finally managed, voice hoarse.

Gideon coughed into his hand, a scoffing sound. "Waste of breath to live a way other than this life. Doing other than what's… what's right." Biting his lip, he grinned again, backing away into the light of the street lamp and stretching his arms up, flexing his fingers. The light caught on his ginger hair, turning it a leonine gold. "Besides, living on death's edge, you don't get a better fucking rush than that."

Fabian's answering grin was weaker, as he ran a hand through his darker red.

"You think on that, now!" Gideon shouted, backing away. His grin broadened, tongue curling up behind his teeth. He shot Fabian two thumbs ups, which he tipped forward at his brother, his pointer fingers extended like firing wands.

"Where you going?" Fabian shouted after him, as his brother, younger by seven minutes and eleven seconds backed out of the glowing circle of one light and glided into the light of the other. He moved slowly after him, the shadow cast by the light behind him mingling with Gideon's shadow from the light ahead.

"Told Sturgis and Mack I'd meet up with 'em at the Green Dragon after we'd thought it over! And hope to hell she didn't get Sirius to tag along!" The shadows flitted across the planes of his face. "You can come, if you like!"

Fabian waved him off, his throat suddenly tight.

"It'll be quite the time, Fab!" Gideon hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth, still walking backwards. "Doc'll buy you a round! McKinnon might make you dance, she'll make _me _dance, but it's worth it! If only for the cost of fags we can bum off 'a Podmore!"

He cupped his own hands over his mouth and shouted at the broad, boyish shape of his brother, whose shadow was flitting further away. "Molly hates it when you smoke those things. She'll turn red and you'll miss out on her dinner!"

"Yeah, but it's worth it!"

Gideon swiveled away, but he turned back on his heel in a move just shy of graceful, like a dance step made awkward by misbehaving feet. "Fab!"

His brother looked up, the corners of his lips lifted in a pained smile.

"It is worth it!"

The empty street resounded with a sharp crack as Gideon vanished from his sight, his shadow evaporating with him.

Fabian shook his head and ran his calloused hand up the bridge of his nose to rest against his brow. He shook momentarily as a morbid sort of laugh escaped him and then dismissed concerns from his mind. He straightened and adjusted his robe collar. Hestia and Molly were expecting him, and he couldn't disappoint his two best girls.

"Damn fool," he muttered, not sure whether he meant his brother or himself, or both.

He couldn't follow him where he was going.

He couldn't _not _follow him.

Swearing fiercely, he Disapparated for home.

His words echoed for the merest instant in the street before fading into the quiet, leaving only the shadows and the streetlamps.


	2. His Girl

_"...That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family."_

* * *

She was lovely.

Her arms flung around his neck and he stepped back with an oof of exhale, even as a laugh bubbled up in his throat. She pulled away and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Fay, you right bastard, I haven't seen you in ages, c'mere, you sod, come get a drink with me, won't yah? I'd make you pay but the tap's on Potter what with it bein' his wedding and all- and begone with you, man, you still getting taller on me? Bad as that brother of yours, now where'd he go on me..."

Her hair fluttered like the ribbons on her dress robes as she turned to look, gesturing in the direction of the lean broad-shouldered man who was occupied dancing with the bride.

She'd lightened it a bit since he'd seen her last, the shade of the strands tumbling into her eyes more caramel than milk chocolate now, and it suited her nicely. He hardly remembered the color it had been back when it was wind-whipped after a Quidditch game, a sort of unremarkable off-brown shade.

"How are you, Marlene?" he asked with a grin as she turned back to him.

"'M here, aren't I?" she said archly, the angles of her face contorting slightly in a faint grimace. "Not everybody can say as much."

"Yeah, Stebbins was wondering why he didn't get an invite..."

The amusement in her brown eyes lapsed. "Nah, Fay, I meant the ones we've been losing. You'll remember Wright, naturally," and she paused to correct herself when she saw he plainly didn't, "used to play Keeper for Ravenclaw, Cooper, Cooper Wright…" She gave up with a sigh. "You broke his nose once-"

"Him? You mean, dead? But the Wrights, the Wrights go back…"

"His mother's a Muggle, they got her too… and Seymour-"

"Grubs, yes, I have been watching the obituaries…" he said, rubbing his eyes a bit dismissively. The color was lighter and softer than his brother's, Hestia told him teasingly, more brown, but Marlene'd told him once when she was royally pissed that he didn't have half of Gideon's twinkle, in less polite terms. Not a bleeding third. He remembered it because he agreed with her.

"Another last night, from school…the girl who went with Williamson, Nicola… blast it all, what's her name, what's the name-" She walked forward with him, a steady pace as she muttered to herself, brow wrinkled.

"Not Doge?"

"No, that's Finola… oh, Hubbard, it was Hubbard… or maybe it was Herbert…_ blast_ it all…" She shook her head, tresses tumbling with it, then looked up, eyes snapping again. "But merciful Mungo, let's have none of that today. How're you, how's your girl?" she said slightly teasingly, looping her arm through the crook of his.

"Sturgis Podmore has accosted her, so I suppose it depends on whether or not she succumbs to his roguish charms," he said dryly, inclining his head towards where Hestia Jones was twirling under her friend's arm. His girl- he liked that she was his girl- caught his eye and wiggled her fingers in a slight wave before turning back to the dance, black curls bobbing.

"Ogden's for me, stout for the lady," Fabian told the witch at the bar, who skidded the drinks across to him without hesitation, the glasses filling as she did so.

Her head tilted, she squinted at him slightly. "Lady is it now?"

He didn't answer, gaze still fixed over her shoulder as he handed her the glass.

She turned to follow his eye and look at Hestia, and looked back at him with a shake of the head. "Blow me down but I never thought I'd see the day. You actually got the girl, Fay. And is she ever giving me the eye. Boy. You and Potter must be two of the luckiest sons of bitches in the whole sodding country of England-"

"Watch it with the country, Irish."

"Testy, are we, mate? Ah, and here she comes, slipping away from Sturgis…. boy but I'd kill for my hair to hold curl like that," she said, eyeing Hestia's ringlets enviously.

"And if the man hasn't gone and gotten her to dance again," Fabian commented, shaking his head and downing his drink.

Marlene watched him with a skeptical eye, sipping the foam off the top of her dark glass. With her free hand she flicked her hair, hanging loose and wavy from the curl she'd painstakingly enchanted into it, out of her eyes and over her shoulder. "Dance with me, won't you, Fabian darling?" she said, batting her eyelashes.

He laughed with a snort that almost caused him to sputter into his firewhiskey. The expression was practiced and endearing but utterly ridiculous in execution. "Off with yah, Mack! I don't dance, dance with Gideon."

She rolled her eyes, which wasn't at all endearing. "He's trying to get a dance with the bride but Sirius Black won't give her back to Potter, he's too busy hiding from the bridesmaids."

He eyed her dress pointedly.

She flashed her best grin. He knew it was her best, too, but it wasn't the real one, the one he liked the most that crinkled her eyes and didn't make her look at all pretty. "Oh, no, I'm swell. He likes me enough." She leaned up against a nearby chair and sipped her stout.

Fabian leaped on the words, brows lifted. "Likes you enough?"

"Sure does," she said, dipping her head, lip twitching up in the left corner in a way that wasn't a smile at all.

He sipped the firewhiskey, she sipped her stout, and he casually said out of the side of his mouth, "The man's up to his armpits in _issues_, McKinnon, don't be a bleeding fool."

She blinked innocently but the snap in her brown eyes turned to fire. "He's too busy, Fabian, there's nothing to concern yourself with."

He sized her up critically before plunging into hazardous waters. "You knew better than to fall in love with him."

"There's no knowing better, Fay," she bit back, and took a breath. "And I am not in love with him, and I am not in love with Gideon," she added warningly, "though they're handsome devils, both, but so are you, love, and I'm not in love with you."

"Yes, quite," he said, highly amused at the very thought and at her denial.

"Nearly every woman in this room's been attracted to Black at one point or another and that includes Hestia," she added as a jab. It worked. "But he's very… distracted," Marlene said jerkily, shaking her head with a smile. "There's a helluva lot more important things going on in the world then romancing."

"Oh?"

"Not if you're Potter," she amended, downing her drink as she caught sight of Gideon heading her way. "Not if you're you, or even, apparently, Evans and Jones. But if you're me, or Black, or your brother, or, I dunno, Elphias Doge, well, yes, then, we've got our mind on other things."

He caught the way her eyes drifted to Black as she said his name, and he was dancing with Dorcas Meadowes now, a woman Fabian recalled as being a seventh year when he was starting school. She was beautiful and she was leading and seemed uncomfortable in this setting, and Black was simply laughing his head off at god-knows-what.

"Hello there, stranger, making time with my gal?" a familiar voice wondered, and Gideon was beaming at him, clapping him on the shoulder as a clamor went up among the crowd as the band moved to a faster song made popular by the Crashing Cleansweeps, a one-hit wonder.

"Your gal?" she repeated, smirking. "Oh, Gid, are you ever living in de-nial…"

"Marlene," Gideon said, eyes dancing, holding out his hand. "Delightful as ever. C'mon, now, let's get you back out there."

"Alright, Prewett," she answered, cheeks aglow. "Seeing as this handsome gent won't budge," she jibed, elbowing Fabian, then pausing dramatically. "But soft, can that be the lady fair?" she asked wonderingly, steering him in the direction his pretty pink-cheeked witch was heading in. "Blast it, another one lost to the bewildering guiles of an older woman..."

"Oh, you are cheeky," Fabian said warningly.

"Grouch," she answered back and promptly forgot him as Gideon, backing away, yanked on her hand and spun her out and in.

He saw her laugh, eyes crinkled as she looked over her shoulder into Gideon's face, his brother's arm looped momentarily around her waist and then her hand was in Gideon's other hand as he spun her out again. His tanned hand went to her waist, hers to his broad shoulder, and then they started to pretend like they could dance and managed to fool most others in the process.

Gideon's dimples were showing and the semi-darkness concealed the freckles on his face and the few cinnamon sprinkles on hers, and Godric, thought Fabian, did they make a helluva pair and would she ever make a sister-in-law, if only to see how she and Molly would fare placed together at family functions.

It was a shame they didn't work as a couple. Once or twice they'd tried it, though never seriously since he and Gideon finished school and Marlene started her sixth, but it was hell for all involved, particularly Fabian, and so maybe it was better this way, even if Sirius Black was breaking her heart without even paying attention and even if Gideon kept pinning his dreams on the sleeve of one pretty face or another, especially redheads.

But they sure could look like they knew how to dance.

Hestia, wordlessly, tugged him out to dance and he followed because he knew her that well by now, that with that look in her eye there was no argument.

"Ho, McKinnon," he heard Black say, and then there he was, the bastard, with the devil-may-care glint in his eye.

Gideon, wincing, spun Marlene McKinnon around as the song switched. He tapped her shoulder and told her he'd see her in a bit, and then made a beeline for the fetching blonde in the corner he'd caught a glimpse of when dancing.

She smiled slowly. "Dance with me, Sirius?"

He grinned. "Oh, I don't dance, Mack, but I can pretend." Catching her hands, he pulled her into a mock waltz, dipping her back so that she nearly dropped to the floor. She caught hold around his neck to keep herself from falling, laughing, and set off-balance they stumbled into the Longbottoms, who didn't even notice them. Unconcerned, Black righted himself, adjusting his bow tie and glancing around askance at the wedding guests staring at him out of the corner of his eye and speculating how much he'd had to drink. He waggled his eyebrows at Lily, who was rolling her eyes, and James who was far too distracted admiring her to even notice. "I didn't know you dance," he remarked offhand as they settled into a sort of sway, migrating in a circle.

"I didn't know you don't," she responded drolly, eyeing the multiple and many scrapes on the warm hand enfolding hers.

"Never really learned," he responded easily, grey eyes flickering around the room. At a distance they always looked blue, but up close they were the shade of storm clouds during a soft rain. "Lily-hunting took up all the time at Slughorn's parties."

Marlene laughed. "Not all the time," she chided.

"That so?" he asked, features bemused.

"You climbed right into the fireplace in fourth year to escape Jorkins," she reminded him, looking up to meet his shifting eyes.

"Ah, Bertha," he sighed, grimacing even as he managed to make his voice sound nostalgic.

"You're telling me you don't remember that?" she demanded.

He frowned, shrugging. "Vaguely."

She sighed, amused, leaning closer as the tempo of "Broomdance" picked up. "Sirius, you scorched your bleeding bum and spent a week standing in every class since Pomfrey refused to heal you because of the Bludgeoning incident a week before…"

"She did, didn't she?" he said, smiling to himself. The smile faded as he considered it. "Mother of darkness, that hurt, too… I'd forgotten all about that benostriled nattering onion-peeling gnat- is she here?" he wondered suddenly, lifting his head and rising to his full height to see above the crowd.

"Actually…," Marlene said slyly.

Sirius paled. "You're lying to me," he scolded, eyes fixing firmly on hers.

"No, honestly, she came with Barney Cuffe-"

He let out a stream of very creative curses and seemed poised to bolt off the dance floor and drag her with him. Even Alice Longbottom lifted her head from Frank's shoulder in surprise at his sudden outburst.

"Becalm yourself, man, Lupin hexed her quietly before the wedding itself; she's snoring out by Barnabus' Bluebottle."

He stopped mid-sway. "Remus did?" he commented quietly, flickering his gaze to where the werewolf was tiredly but enthusiastically attempting a waltz with Arabella Figg. The elderly woman's cheeks blushed petal pink. "Sometimes lately I forget why Mooney's a mate of mine and then he goes and does something so beautifully reckless and underhanded without a soul noticing- well, except apparently you," he amended. "Good on you."

She shook her head. "Good on Gideon," she amended, then wrinkled her nose. "I think that came out a bit funny. He saw him. Pure bit of genius on Lupin's part."

"Probably saved Bertha's life," Black mused. "Lily'd have gone absolutely squonkers and brutally slayed her, which might have put a damper on the wedding… Shame…"

"The damper on the wedding or Jorkins' untimely death?"

The song switched. He tried to spin her out and pulled her back in too fast, she crashed into him too quickly and started laughing at once. "Murder. I could do her in, Jorkins," he said dreamily. "Still owe her for the undue injury to my bum."

"Marring perfection and all that?"

He kept a straight face, twitching in his cheekbones reflecting his almost-smile. "You said it, not me."

She detached her hand and adjusted her shoulder strap, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before she slipped it back to his shoulder. "Poor dear, it's probably still scarred," she said in her perpetually mocking lilt.

He gave her his practiced devilish smile and lowered his head in a way that made his eyes look dark. "Wanna check?"

The drumbeat of the song came rat-a-tatting in and he threw back his head in laughter as the Hobgoblins' "Jump My Fire" hit the chorus and became instantly recognizable, even played by the band James had dubiously hired. "_Jump my fire! Share my broom! Though I might not know yah tomorrow afternoon- Douse my light! Let's do-oo this deed, babe you got all the spells I neeee-eee-eee-eeeed! Wah!_" They belted the chorus along with most of the wizards their age in the room, jumping up and down; Sirius landed on her foot but neither really noticed.

When it settled to the calmer "Shabaam, Shaboom," of their parents' generation, Sirius was still laughing, that clear barking sound that cut through all other noise. "Sweet Salazaar," he muttered, "the Hobgoblins. You know," he added off-hand, "I _have_ been compared to Stubby Boardman."

She stared at him, aghast. "_Favorably_?"

He glanced down in a defensive look as she started to shake with laughter. "Do we need to stop dancing?" he asked when it became clear she wasn't making a very good recovery and seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

"Sorry," she sputtered, "picturing you singing Make Magic With Me and M-my Mantico-" she couldn't finish, dissolving into giggles again.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I like the Manticore song..." His scanning of the crowd brought a glare to his eye. "Oops, McKinnon, straighten up, I think Prewett thinks I'm making you cry."

"Making me- cripes, Black, when do I cr-"

"When we lost to Ravenclaw, when you thought you flunked the Transfiguration final and then when you found out you'd flopped it-"

Her eyes blazed but at least she wasn't nearly doubled over. "Fourth year!"

He paused thoughtfully, eyes drifting over to James and Lily. "I suppose that does seem a long time ago… and somehow…"

"Yesterday was forever ago and forever ago was yesterday," she said wryly.

"He's coming to steal you back," Sirius said in a mock-mournful tone, steering her left so she could see Gideon gently elbowing Dirk Cresswell aside to pass through the crowd before getting stalled by the passage of the frenetic dancing, if one could call it that, of James Potter. "Shall I hide you?"

"Mmm. I wouldn't worry, some girl'll be glad to console you when my radiant presence departs…"

"C'mon," he said cheerfully. "Dancing with Prewett can't be half so interesting."

"Which one?"

"Smartass."

"Takes one-"

"Heard it. Prewett's conversation surely is, comparatively, lacking…"

She winked. "Unless of course you're the subject matter."

He ran a hand rakishly through his dark hair. "Naturally… _am_ I the subject matter?" he asked with idle curiosity.

"Godric, yes, he's deathly jealous of your scarred arse…"

"He doesn't like me," Black sang out, "even if he likes my arse, which in consideration of that sentence is far too terrifying a concept to even consider…"

She bit her lip in pretend consideration, tilting her head. "Well, he does have a running pool on when you're going to crash your motorbike…"

"No, Lily started that…"

"_Evans_ did?"

"I beg your pardon, you mean Mrs. James Potter," said Sirius formally, then shivered slightly in sheer surprise.

Marlene blinked as well, thrown off by the reality of that, then brushed it off with, "He blames you for losing him that last Cup, what with getting yourself and Potter hauled into detention…"

"That was a trip," he murmured, eyes fogging over with memories of mischief. "Besides Prewett's one of those old Gryffindor families-"

"Like the Potters and McKinnons?" she asked in exasperation. She leaned back as if to study him, still swaying, and concluded, "Your hair bothers him."

"My hair?" he repeated, grinning.

"You have very nice hair."

"I _know_ I have very nice hair…"

"Yes," Gideon Prewett interceded dryly from over Sirius' shoulder, "everyone in the room is aware that Sirius Black has very nice hair. I would like to add that Gideon Prewett also happens to have reasonably attractive hair which thankfully does not stick up-"

"Oi!" objected Potter, swinging by close enough to hear the jibe for his benefit. He stopped in mid-step, Lily halting abruptly with him and from the shade of her face, matching perfectly with her hair, seemed on the brink of strangling him.

"Even if it does not swing gracefully into my eyes with magical shine-"

"Oi, I do not use-" Sirius' hand slid off of Marlene's waist and with a faint sigh she stepped away, smile leaping to her face. "James, tell Prewett I don't enchant my hair!"

James thought about this. "_Do_ you enchant your hair?"

Sirius, affecting a show of being crushed by this lack of support, waved his hand dismissively at Gideon, hanging his head. "Go off and discuss my bum or something, I was pretending to dance here."

The twin's mouth parted slightly as he mulled that one over.

"Pretend to dance with me for awhile, Sirius, James is crippling me," Lily suggested winningly, wincing as she remained on her feet.

"It's true," James said, with a shrug and surprise written on his face for being unable to come up with a veritable objection. "How many times have I stepped on your dress now, Lily-love?"

Her face quirked at the appellation. "I have it at six."

James' face contorted in disappointed disbelief. "I had it at four!"

"You came so close to falling into the pumpkin punch that last time, too," Sirius threw in gleefully.

Gideon mouthed swiftly at Marlene, _Flee_. _We must escape or_… She couldn't figure out what he was mouthing after that, but it seemed to involve Sirius and the gist was not polite.

Sirius didn't notice as she wryly spun off with Gideon, who was in fact now making inquiries about what was possibly so interesting about Black's bum, flinty eyes studying her features.

Fabian didn't see her leave that night, though he made his farewells to Gideon later, and even to Sirius at the end of the night, after relieving the young man from his mistaken impression that he was Gideon, although his hair was darker red and his eyes lighter brown and no one else he knew seemed to have trouble distinguishing them. Gideon'd mention her occasionally, and the Order business they were up to, and something about her having drinks with Sirius Black every couple weeks when Black wasn't busy, which apparently wasn't very often. At least, not so often as Marlene might like, and certainly more often than Gideon did. Occasionally some funny phrase or happening would put Marlene in Fabian's head, and he'd marvel at how long it'd been, especially given he'd catch her daily for most of the year round when they were at school school, and he'd resolve to shoot her an owl or fire-call soon. But soon turned into a pile of yesterdays long before Fabian ever followed up.

* * *

He stopped by St. Mungo's in early August to swing by an advance birthday present, a few books on Quidditch he knew she'd like and a sweater with a big Quaffle on it his sister had meant for him but which despite his best Engorging efforts remained too small and most importantly a package from Honeydukes, chocolates with hints of various fruit flavors, caramels and cinnamon sweets.

She'd lost weight and her face was sharply angular, cheekbones visible for the first time in all that he'd known her under the usual curve of her cheek. She was paper pale and her faint freckles glowed rosy orange on her cheeks.

"Hullo," she said with a smile and hugged him, and he hullo'd her back, and he thought later he'd made an insipid comment on her lime green robes and she'd teased him back about the Hit Patrol uniform and they'd exchanged their concerns about friends. Instinctively he'd looked her over for injuries, the way he always did with Gideon now, because Hit Patrol was dangerous enough, the operations of the Order of the Phoenix at night were something else, but realized this was silly, as she was, after all, a Healer first and foremost.

She had to run, she explained rather unapologetically, had to go back to work, but kiss kiss, best to Hestia and Molly and her brood ("and mind tell her congratulations though I'm tempted to send condolences, twins can you imagine, ye gods, and after puttin' up with you two") and all of that and she was sorry because she really wouldn't mind letting him buy her dinner.

She told him good-bye and followed her call off, then came running back with tickets to a Kestrels-Magpies game she hoped he could use because she couldn't. She'd been serving as a mediwitch for as many games as possible, to stay close to the sport, but lately, lately… She sighed, shook it off, and ran off again.

"And you'd better back the Kestrels, Prewett!"

She was nineteen and she was in the Order, more involved than her cousin Mairghread who Fabian'd taken to Hogsmeade once and called Meggie, or her married brother Mark who everyone called The Mick with a couple little ones and certainly more than her pretty second year sister Kerry with a crush on Sirius Black, that boy with the motorbike who'd drop by every month or so.

A day and night after it happened, he heard from Hestia as she shook him awake while he slept through the day in preparation for a night shift, rushing in with cheeks pink from the wintry air, furious. "You bastard, Fabian Prewett, why didn't you tell me about the McKinnons?"

He knew then, heart sinking in his chest, but he fought it as he rubbed his eyes. "What's wrong with them?"

She paused and her hand went to his cheek, her hand still cold from the November outdoors, but his hand rose to cup it and keep it there. "Oh Fab," she said after a long moment. "Gideon didn't…"

"They're purebloods," he said disbelievingly, shaking himself awake. "They're-"

"Dead," she said, tears wet and cold on her cheeks. "It'll be in the paper today, I heard it from _Bertha Jorkins_, of all the blasted- Fabian don't look like that, don't, you can't go out and murder the lot of the Death Eaters yourself-"

"Gideon probably thinks he can," he said hoarsely. "Is- is-" he began, a note of faint hope in his voice.

"Marlene too," Hestia said softly, and leaned up and kissed him fiercely. "Go find him but be careful," she said breathlessly, because she knew Gideon came first, even though she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her and to cry and for him to promise it wouldn't be them next, that it wouldn't be them.

He swept out the door without his jacket, black robes swishing behind him as he Disapparated on the doorstep.

When he found Gideon at last, his brother was wrecked, on his fourth Firewhiskey. He recognized Fabian's approach, speaking to him before he even reached him.

"Moody and Dumbledore told me to sleep," he offered grimly. "Nothing to do. Others are on it now. Lupin and Meadowes from our lot and of course, all the _Aurors_… it's Dark Wizards so Hit Patrol Members can't officially involve themselves in business they didn't get the O.W.L. scores high enough for. And I'm told I'll get myself killed if I go out in this condition, same to Lily Evans. She nearly spit when they told her that..."

Fabian felt like retching.

"You'll be glad to know _her_ body's alright, no dealing with Inferi or anything…" Gideon's sarcastic tone broke and a sob cracked through his throat.

Fabian stared at the ground, still in shock, finally managing to sputter out, "Was she- did she suffer?"

"No, no. She was too good of a witch for that, apparently she… wasn't tortured. Did she suffer?" he asked, eyes red and hard. "They got her last after everyone of her fami- afte-"

Anyone who knew Marlene McKinnon at all knew about her family, that she talked about all the time. Everyone knew a McKinnon or was related to one. Nothing and no one came before her family, not even Quidditch, and she loved Quidditch.

"The Blasting Curse was used on The Mick," Gideon said flatly, dark eyes gazing off as he braced his elbows on the bar of the Hog's Head, unaware of the intent audience of the bartender and his fellow drinkers. The McKinnons had been well-liked. "Her… by the time they got her she was running … the Aurors who cast the spells to see what happened, them that see into the past, they tell me they hit them while they were sleeping, these masked men… and Marlene had the attic, because she liked being so high, she liked…." Gideon cracked and his head drooped, and he swigged down the bottle of firewhiskey before continuing. "The stars, y'know. Always…"

Eyes swimming and head spinning, Fabian lightly pressed a hand to his brother's shoulder, but Gideon violently shrugged him off. "They found her on the hill," he whispered. "Trying to get out of the range of the anti-Disapparition wards…"

It was a rolling green hill by her house, heading into the woods, with bushes with brambles that could easily catch on robes.

"Runnin' and carrying her little niece they tell me, told me she might have made it if not for the weight… Well, they got lucky and one of 'em hit her from behind with the Killing Curse and then they finished the kid too." He pointed his index finger like a wand and mimed firing, a low chuckle of pain that looked like it hurt to let out and that caused a wave of shock to ripple across his face. "Well I've told you," he managed, a faint gasp coming from his throat. "Supposed to- tell-" His hand swept out, knocking the firewhiskey down, the bottle breaking on the bar

He buried his face in his big hands, light reddish hair covering them like a thin shroud. "Take me home, Fab, I wanna go home…" he spoke through them, voice muffled and barely audible.

Fabian took him to Molly's, stumbling in the door with him and frightening their sister and nephews.

"Uncle Gideon, you're crying," said Bill in confusion, becoming even more confused as his Uncle Gideon, flopped limply on the couch, wrapped an arm around him and buried his face in the little boy's shoulder.

She had looked like she was asleep when he saw her, limbs strewn haphazard among the soft high grass she'd laid on in summer and watched the stars. Her face was drawn and unsettled, brown eyes wide and empty as mud, hair spilling like a puddle around her features.

"I'm sorry, Prewett," Moody had told him gruffly, scarred face unreadable, and a dry-eyed, white-faced Potter exchanged with Gideon a look of terrible volumes.

He looked for Sirius Black and Potter told him in a dead voice that the man had taken off on his motorbike when he'd heard for an unknown destination without looking back and when Gideon next saw him he'd shrugged it off but the bark of his laugh bit a little harder.

Lily Potter was out to kill someone, and she and McKinnon had barely tolerated each other through half their school years anyhow.

She was their girl, his girl since she'd waited in the rain to watch Quidditch practices for the team she hadn't made and nattered at him what he was doing wrong, working all summer till she was good and playing Seeker for them when she didn't have the temperament for it, too high-strung and taking everything too personally and knowing always she'd never do as good a job as Potter would if he wanted that position. She was a mocking laughing dancing bitching funny vain little thing and she was probably going to be a very good Healer too but that was all over now, all the notions about what would become of them, the talk of where they'd be in ten, twenty, forty years, love, life, the potential lost in the breath it took for the burst of green light to reach a soul.

She was his friend and she was always supposed to be there.

It punctured the bubble of safety existing in his imagination, that it would always be other people the terrible things happened to, not him, not Fabian, not their family and close close friends. Not the Order.

She was the first death of the Order of the Phoenix and they all knew she would not be the last.

Gideon Prewett thought it nearly criminal life could go on without her, unchanged, and it hurt to laugh and breathe and talk and dance and then it hurt a little less because he was so busy fighting.

He fought for himself and Fabian and Molly and her family, her new family, and all the Order even Sirius Black and some nights for her.

Meanwhile Fabian Prewett, very quietly, joined the Order.


	3. The Grind

_"...We were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one... " - Lupin  
_

_"Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing … The Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere … panic … confusion … that's how it used to be._

_... Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others." - Sirius Black_

* * *

Night by night Gideon's eyes turned to flint.

The times were hard and little by little his good-natured features closed and turned to granite while he became lean and hollow-cheeked, almost sickly - even when he smiled.

The part of his mind that remained vain noted the patrician cheekbones suddenly visible and failed to determine whether this made him more attractive or less. They worked for Dearborn, but he had a tragic bony sort of look that was suited to it. Molly of course thought Gideon was looking far too thin.

His jaw seemed cast iron, lips locked steely and straight even when he was down on his hands and knees searching for Benjy Fenwick's fingertips only to find a bit of face instead and when he explained to Ambrosius Flukes what had occurred to the portly candy lover who'd worked at Honeydukes for over twenty years.

He heard Sirius Black mutter an atrociously inappropriate joke about how much of Benjy there was and fought the urge to laugh, a maniacal bubbling that made his lips twitch in the wrong direction and his eyes sting as the iron of his jaw turned molten and malleable.

He went out back later, unable to fight the terrible impulse seizing his throat, and retched instead.

He returned inside and pretended he hadn't heard Sirius alone out back, a hoarse chortle shoving its way out of the man's throat at an impossible, terrible volume; that he hadn't seen out of the corner of his eye the young man slumped back against the wall with his hands in his thick dark hair.

Pretending made it easier to smile later when his nephews climbed all over him and tugged on his hair with the chubby little hands they trustingly placed in his in order to yank him over to see their latest accomplishments or enter the games which inevitably ended with hurling balls at each other whether they were playing Mad Muggle or Vortigern Nigg, Treasure Hunstman of the Night, or Kill the Boy with the Quaffle, unless it was Dragons, which resulted in the destruction of the ancient toy broomsticks once belonging to Gideon and Fabian.

He roared at Molly's flustered tale of taking Fred and George to Mungo's for a Healer, George's nose and Percy's lips dreadfully engorged because Fred had gotten his chubby little hands on her wand while she'd been putting healing salve on Charlie's head, split after Bill goaded him into jumping off the roof to fly, which her second oldest had actually succeeded in doing in a jerking manner of levitation that placed him near enough to the ground that he survived.

George had bit the mediwizard attempting to inspect him with the pearly baby teeth coming in.

Molly was not amused; Arthur was but knew better than to show it, and Gideon and Fabian, admonished for their cackling, snorted into their sweet potatoes and tickled Georgie's ickle toes.

It amazed Gideon to find he could still smile, still laugh, clean up mashed peas tossed by a little arm across the room with the same hand drenched earlier in a friend's blood or his own.

He and Fabian were a team again, uneasily working their shifts with the Hit Patrol unsure if the next call would be an unlicensed Apparition or an attack on a Muggle street shattering all the shop windows that required bringing in blasted Obliviators and the Office of Misinformation to convince the bobbies it was just the Irish again with their bums. Arthur had tried to explain to him about bums, but Gideon had difficulty with the concept. Great difficulty.

Some nights he felt as if the Order of the Phoenix was a blind, stumbling entity, feeling impatient while patrolling a spot they might attack, feeling silly cutting deals with Mundungus Fletcher not to investigate some suspicious Mooncalf manure in exchange for rumors around Knockturn, feeling useless when they failed to prevent yet another attack and arrived too late.

Other nights he felt only relief.

Being fashionably late was suddenly out of style. The entire Order was half convinced Lily Potter, nee Evans, was dead when she was twenty minutes late from returning from a round of patrolling the Diagon Alley businesses run by Muggle-born shopkeepers.

She nearly was.

"Ge'off, Dearborn," Potter snarled, voice rising on an animalistic note. "'M warning you-" he threatened, and the table in the backroom of the Green Dragon Tavern shook wildly.

Gideon pointlessly pressed his weight against the table, attempting to keep it from clanging. He vibrated with it, teeth chattering.

Fabian had his heels dug into the ground, holding Potter's wand, which was surging back towards James' hand.

"You royal bastard," James hissed desperately, elbow arcing back painfully into Caradoc, who oofed loudly and stepped back. The slight release of James allowed him to turn on his captor, who he knocked to the floor with every intent of throttling. "You're KILLING h-"

He reeled back, clutching at a stung cheek.

Dorcas Meadowes' wand was firmly pointed at his face, and he stared at her in hurt surprise.

"You will not compromise your _wife_," she said calmly in a tone that was not to be brokered with. "You can either trust her to get back or we'll trust her for you and knock you silly if you so much as think about blinking in the direction of the door. _Sit down_."

James sat, sinking right to the floor, hand still on his cheek. "None of you understand," he muttered fiercely, glasses tilted lopsidedly.

"Mother of Merlin, where are his friends?" Dorcas demanded.

Fabian let go of James' wand, leaving it to shoot forward and hit Caradoc Dearborn smack in the face as he righted himself. "We're not his friends?" he asked innocently.

She glared dangerously. "Pettigrew, the Remus one, and Sirius."

The table had stopped shaking rather petulantly, but Gideon kept on shaking, understanding the inappropriateness of laughing.

James' eyes were fixed firmly on the clock as Fabian began to speculate where exactly Sirius had gone to, seeing as wasn't he expected here, and with a roar of "That's bleeding IT!" he charged upward, diving for his wand.

Podmore and Dearborn tackled him as there was a sudden knock on the door.

The group collectively froze, and Meadowes moved slowly for the door.

"Let us in, it's chilly," a familiar voice commanded.

James' ears perked up from where he was pinned to the floor.

"What's the watchword?" the dark-haired woman demanded, one hand poised above the knob, the other on the wand.

"The clomping Clabbert dwells in the cupboard of Bonham the Benevolent," the voice rattled off.

"Leaping Clabbert," a woman corrected, and James let out a whoop, with only the combined weight of Sturgis and Caradoc keeping him on the floor.

"Alright, the leaping Clabbert dwells in the cupboard of Bonham the Benevolent."

Meadowes cleared her throat. "Yea verily, the scarlet light seeps through the crack, but hark!"

"Har- Dorry, what the blooming broomsticks is- we all realize some dum-dum is sitting around coming up with this flobberglock, don't we? Don't we- ow, Lils- fine, the lollygagging vampire clambered creepingly up the be-haired tower-"

James got his hand on his wand.

There was a brief shower of sparks, a yelp from Sturgis, and a clang as he shoved past them, nearly bowled Dorcas over, flung the door open, threw his arms around- Sirius- pulled back, readjusted, and promptly kissed a surprised Lily.

"No kiss for me?" Black laughed, pushing away Dorcas' wand, still leveled in the direction of his chest.

Gideon let out a breath and cracked up, helping Sturgis to his feet.

"We're all lucky that wasn't a clever trick," Fabian commented quietly as he joined them. "We could have just loosed a bunch of hooded maniacs upon ourselves-"

"No one can imitate Black's idiocy that excellently," Podmore grumbled, adjusting his flopping straw-straight hair.

"Bet his brother could," Gideon retorted quietly, eyes turning to James and Lily.

The black-haired young man pulled back, eyes intent on hers. "A moment," he said softly, then swiftly snapped around and yanked Caradoc toward him by the collar, a difficult feat considering the height on the man. "The next snarking snallygasting piece of shit who tries to stop me from getting to her had better be prepared to spew his own entrails over his-"

Being married to Lily was somewhat improving James' insult vocabulary; he'd called Edgar Bones a pilgarlic the week before and half the Order had looked it up later.

"Drop him," Lily said tiredly, hand gripping James' shoulder hard. Her nails seemed to be digging into his shoulder from the way he winced. "You hotheaded nit, keep up on this overprotective balderdash and you'll have to start worrying about your own entr-"

"You're hurt," he interrupted, hazel eyes darkening as he eyed her bedraggled appearance before snapping over to Sirius, whose grey eyes were not half as mirthful as his voice would suggest.

Caradoc made a gurgling noise, and Gideon hustled over to tug him free from James' distracted grip.

"She's fine, Prongs," Sirius assured him.

"I'm fine," she repeated strongly, and lowering her voice, which only the nearby Gideon and Caradoc could overhear, "and we'll have to _talk_ about you coming in hours late from work and expecting me to wait and you pulling this, mister."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a first year."

"Don't act like one."

"James," Fabian interrupted uneasily. "You and I are supposed to relieve Doge and Lupin at the Bones'?"

"Right," he said dismissively. "Someone can-"

Lily's green irises blazed, the intense color directing all the attention.

James loved the perfect shape they made when she narrowed them.

"I go out and risk my life and you-"

He rolled his eyes behind his glasses. "Yes, alright, alr-"

"-intending to just leave Remus hanging or make Sirius go for-"

"Alright, I'm not going to have to hush you up in front of all these nice people, am I?" he asked with an endearing smile.

"Weren't so nice a minute ago," Caradoc mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ooh, James Potter, if you th-"

He dropped a swift peck on her lips, gesturing to Fabian, who grabbed his Invisibility Cloak for him. "I love you," he said fiercely, cupping her face in his hands and tipping it up gently.

Gideon shuffled uncomfortably, Fabian looked away, and Sirius' gaze seemed fixed on the ceiling.

Her pink chapped lips rounded slowly upward into a pleased bow. "And I love you, Potter, but if you get yourself killed it'll be difficult for us to keep going out."

He seemed to take this warning under consideration. "How about maimed?" he teased.

"Try to steer clear of maimings, too," she advised. "You know I only put up with you because you're cute."

"Rakishly handsome," he amended. "I know."

Fabian cleared her throat and when James continued to simply stare at her, Lily's hands moved his slowly away from her face as she drew back. Potter kept his hand latched firmly on her right hand as she pulled away, then pulled it close and kissed her palm.

He swept towards the door. "Well c'mon then Prewett," he said impatiently, not looking back. "We're late."

Fabian hustled it out the door, and with a spring Sirius shut it behind him as Lily sagged.

Unprepared, Gideon still got his wand out in time to hold her up.

"Lily!" Meadowes exclaimed, as Sirius and Gideon helped Lily to a chair.

"It's nothing much," she assured them, though she looked pale. Her eyes remained bright.

"She's not wounded, I checked that, ninny," Sirius snapped at Podmore as he went for the bag with the Blood Replenishing Potions.

"My leg's asleep," Lily informed them with a faint giggle in her throat.

The room, except Sirius, collectively paused.

"It's what?" Dearborn wondered, blinking.

"Left or right?" Gideon asked sensibly, bending down to his knees.

Lily nodded to her left leg as Podmore ran his hands through his mop of hair. "A bit prickly and numb?"

"It's been Stunned," Sirius said loudly. "Bollocks, don't you think we tried _Finite Incantatem_, Prewett?"

"Doesn't matter what I think, _did_ you?"

Black swore, throwing his hands up.

Gideon eyed the leg, tapping it with his wand. There was a slight flare of light, Lily watched it with faint amusement. "Was I meant to have felt that?"

"Should've hurt like the dickens," Prewett affirmed. "Who's got the Pepper-Up Potions?"

"What's that gonna do?" Sirius Black demanded before anyone could respond.

"I suppose," Gideon drawled, "you never Stunned a body part with your parent's wand as a child."

He shrugged. "I blew things up."

"Figures," muttered Sturgis.

"Pepper-Up Potions?" Lily reminded them.

They exchanged looks.

Gideon jabbed at Caradoc with his wand.

"You drank the last three," Dearborn informed him matter-of-factly.

He blinked. "I ought to recall that," he mumbled.

Sirius sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I'll go out and order some in the tavern- say, Dorcas-"

"What?" she snapped, plainly not in a good mood.

His brow furrowed. "Weren't you tailing Evan Rosier tonight?"

The shock of remembrance on her face smoothed away almost immediately. "Came for backup. Doc?"

He closed his eyes, jaw slack slightly in annoyance. "Righto."

"You good here then, Gid?"

He nodded absently, drumming his wand against Lily's ankle, above her limp and dusty sock. "As long as we have the potions."

Sirius slid towards the entrance to the main tavern and carefully made his way through the sealed door, Meadowes and Dearborn trailing out the side entrance.

Sturgis muttered something under his breath as Gideon looked up at Lily. "Close, then?" he asked quietly

Her lips turned up faintly but there was something in that almost-smile, the flicker in her green eyes that bespoke to Gideon something of the jarring shock of an Invisibility Cloak failing to conceal her from one anticipating it and having to hold off a hoard of them in time for the Muggle-born owner of 18a Diagon Alley to get away, of the horrible cold bouncing down to her toes as if she'd swallowed a Chocolate Frog whole when her leg suddenly ceased to feel like part of her body and suddenly became a foreign dead weight that crashed down like wood, of the beautiful and unexpected sound of Sirius' motorcycle.

"Close," she allowed. "But no cigar."

Gideon's gold-dusted eyebrows came together above the bridge of his nose as he considered this. "I could get you a cigar," he offered warily, studying her as if he were picturing her smoking it.

Podmore choked at the thought.

She laughed pleasantly and waved it off.

"Recognize any more friends of ours?" Gideon wondered dryly.

"Two were speaking in Russian," Lily informed him, musingly.

Podmore sat up straighter. "Russian? You're sure?"

"Have I ever been to Russia?"

"Have you?" Sturgis responded easily.

"It sounded like it to Sirius and me."

"Sirius and I," Sturgis offered helpfully.

Gideon and Lily exchanged glances, their mouths forcibly turning down.

Podmore seemed to realize he'd miscalculated, changing the subject back. "If the Durmstrangers are becoming involved, we have a problem."

"One more, anyways."

"One more what?" Sirius wondered, coming back in with a tray laden with bottles of Pepper-Up Potion.

"Buy a lot, did you, Black?" Podmore observed, eyes round.

"On the house," he said cheerfully, though his eyes belied concern as he set the tray down on the table.

Lily eyed the bottles. "Do I even want to know what in England you told them to get all of those?"

Sirius Black grinned. "I need some magical aid to feel _up_ to- "

He was drowned out by the collective groan.

Podmore eyed the bottles with a mix between apprehension and curiosity. "Does that work?"

"I wouldn't know," Sirius managed loftily.

"How many did they reckon you'd need?" Gideon asked in mild amazement.

He grinned again and opened his mouth.

"Clearly the barmaids were optimistic," Lily said drolly. "Now before I'm forced to Stun any certain body parts, can you fix me!"

Sirius sobered, though whether it was from the threat or the reminder of Lily's dilemma was uncertain. "Prongs'll kill me if I've broken his wife."

"I figured you rescued her-" Podmore started with a frown, jabbing a finger towards Sirius.

"He did," Lily protested, even as Sirius dryly replied, "He tried."

Potter's wife began to protest, insisting he'd been simply ridiculously heroic, not to mention insanely stupid (but that was to be expected), in hurling himself in front of the curses heading her way, and simply because a few had deflected off the motorcycle was not his fault. Most she had stopped or since repaired.

"It would've been my fault," he said darkly, "if one've had been green."

"It would no-"

"Would to Prongs."

There was no arguing with that. "I'm fine, though."

Sirius smiled, and Gideon was chilled. "Yeah."

"What were you doing there?" Podmore asked innocently.

"Hmm?" Sirius muttered.

Gideon's flint gaze locked on him as he followed up. "At Diagon Alley. The Quill & Ink District." Near Knockturn, he thought to himself.

"Met with Fletcher," he shrugged, voice carefully devoid of expression as he met Gideon's blankly inquisitive gaze.

"Ah," said Gideon, filing it away. "Lucky."

It was a blatant lie. Mundungus Fletcher was being held at Magical Hit Patrol headquarters for attempting to sell suspicious meat cleavers to both Quidditch Quality Supplies and Muggle stores. He'd spent half the day trying to get Dung out of the jam.

Prewett uncapped one bottle and handed her the potion. "Drink it up, Lils."

"That'll do it?" she questioned.

"N'uh-huh," he said in the most noncommittal way possible.

She pinched her nose and drained it, as Gideon's wand shot back out and he quickly yapped out, "_Pertusiare_!"

Lily spat some potion back out directly in Gideon's face as a dot of blood appeared on her leg, as if she had been pricked by a large pin. Steam shot out of her ears as the sides of her eyes watered slightly, a teardrop trickling out the left corner and tracing the outline of her face.

"Had a Healer do that to my buttocks once to wrench a Doxy tooth out," Sturgis commented.

"Ow?" wondered Sirius.

"Ow," Sturgis agreed.

"OWWW!" Lily confirmed, kicking Gideon's shin for not warning her.

He winced. "Sorry," Gideon offered apologetically, tugging her up. He handed her another potion. "Drink this, walk the numbness off. Don't tell James I did that to his wife."

"Tempting, but the Order needs you alive, mate," Sirius said regretfully.

"I hate this," Lily grumbled.

"I'm sure it hurts," Gideon said sympathetically.

She crinkled her nose, gesturing to the steam traveling from her ears into her locks of lovely red hair. "It looks like my head's on fire."

"Don't worry," Gideon consoled sweetly. "It always looks like your head's afire…"

She swatted, he dodged, Sirius laughed and Sturgis pocketed a Pepper-Up Potion, and for a moment Gideon could pretend she was Lily Evans, the girl he'd taken to Puddifoot's when he was sixteen, who'd dumped a pitcher of tea on Potter's head for following them, who was surprisingly spunky and turned tomato red when angry or when caught reading an _Enchanted Encounters_ book by Sirius who would proceed to read it aloud in the common room, and that the only concerns they had were Arithmancy tests and Transfiguration homework and Quidditch practice, and that Marlene McKinnon would come in any minute.

Then Dedalus Diggle's large silvery chipmunk of a Patronus streamed through the wall and Gideon had to make himself stop laughing and he remembered the woman next to him was Lily Potter when her lips tightened to a thin line and she tossed her burning hair over her shoulder, and Sturgis straightened himself and didn't look half so silly and young even with the floppy hair, and Sirius' barking laugh continued, but with more of an edge in the notes.

They set off to try to help.

* * *

Fabian's eyes burned. They sparked with purpose, the fire Gideon had in the beginning.

It felt pretty good sometimes. Rescuing Muggles from hooded Death Eaters and sometimes young bravos trying to imitate them, freeing witches and wizards trapped within their burning houses by their own excellent wards, saving the occasional damsel, it felt good.

They guarded. They protected. They did good.

There were no nights anymore when Molly's house did not have a secret guard patrolling it, no days without double shifts for the Hit Patrol, and more often or not they were working with the Obliviators.

Sometimes he flirted with Emmeline Vance and sometimes with a pretty Obliviator with a pixie cut whose name he could never remember. He wasn't as smooth about it as Gideon and he was certainly no Sirius Black, but he was handsome and charming enough to pass muster.

It made him feel a little less lonely, a little less bad when he passed Hestia Jones in the Ministry on his way to discuss the problem of the giants with the assistant to the Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, only to have her turn away with a faint smile and pink cheeks deepening to an unhappy red.

She didn't throw anything and he still had all his important bits so he reckoned they'd parted well.

They didn't have time for each other anymore. Other things got in the way and they didn't have time to make time anymore. His mind started commenting on how pretty Emmeline's hand looked as she flicked her wand and he heard through Meadowes there was a bloke at work she was starting to fancy.

He was more hurt by how little hurt he felt at hearing that, when he'd thought they'd be together forever.

But then he'd thought Marlene would be around forever, too.

He never expected Caradoc Dearborn would disappear, and that missing would somehow become synonymous with dead, with finding little pieces like of Benjy Fenwick.

He didn't think it was possible for Mad-Eye Moody to get any more scars.

It was turning out more and more that he was wrong about things, and more and more he began to wonder about Sirius Black as the steady targeting of Order members seemed to prove the existence of a long-feared spy.

Fabian Prewett realized slowly, watching the hawk-like gaze of Moody and the faint coolness in Dumbledore's eyes, that even within the Order of the Phoenix not all was right.

Sirius Black understood the slight chilliness towards him from Bones and Podmore, the wariness of others. He chose not to bring it to James Potter's attention. If the flint in Gideon's watchful eye disquieted him, he bore it with a grin and a black glint in his eye.

Fabian wondered if it could be that obvious. Undoubtedly Black was slightly unhinged, but then so was everyone in the Order except maybe Lily. But she'd married Potter so that was up for grabs anyhow.

He still took night shifts for the Wizarding Hit Patrol. It allowed him to get some of his friends out of trouble.

He got Potter cleared on a breaking and entering into a Muggle home, when he'd actually been following a Death Eater they thought was Wilkes in there to get rid of him. Gideon helped Meadowes out of a jam with the Ministry, nearly getting himself fired. Fabian got Podmore off scot-clean when he was pulled in on charges by a sneering man named Antonin Dolohov.

On sight, Fabian didn't like Dolohov.

Even Elphias Doge was stopped by a patrolman for exceeding reasonable speed and distance near ground without Disillusionment charm. He used the Prewett name to get himself out of a citation or overnight in Azkaban.

Fawcett, the patrolman who picked him up, placed a firecall to Gideon.

"Yeah, let him go," he responded, but being himself, paused. "But make him sweat," he added with a touch of glee.

As luck had it, the next firecall about a friend came through to Fabian, and not Gideon.

"I've got a Black here on a FWI, possession of nightswrath, and illegal enchantment of a Muggle artifact… Claims he knows you, Prewett…"

Good thing, too. Gideon would have felt a bit more than a wee bit of glee.

"I'll be right there," Fabian responded with only a touch of a groan.

Sirius was still laughing when he Apparated there and the WHP members who'd picked him up were getting more than a little edgy. They gladly stepped aside for Fabian.

He sobered up when he saw him. "My baby's alright, eh, Prewett? They didn't hurt her?"

Fabian's brow furrowed. "You had a girl with you?"

"No, you git, the bike. She's good?"

"Undamaged."

"Yeah, but the whips' ideas of not damaged and mine, they differ a bit, Gideon."

Fabian sighed long-sufferingly. "Fabian."

"Seriously? No, sorry, really…"

"We aren't really that hard to tell apart," he said mournfully, although these days that wasn't quite as true. The eyes were still different shades but Gideon had always been fairer, Fabian darker. Neither was getting much sun these days, so Fabian was paler and Gideon's hair duskier than most were accustomed to. At first glance they were getting mixed up more often or not, a problem they hadn't had since childhood except around Sirius Black. "But then you are drunk, aren't you, Sirius?"

He held up a finger. "Ah, but I am not so drunk as to not know that I am drunk, and I'm feeling better now." His eyes flashed. "Much better."

He didn't look better. He looked paler and murkier than usual, a little shaky. His hair was still sleek in that gracefully tumbling way that framed his face, his teeth a flashing white. His expression was nevertheless worrisome.

"Black, you know b-"

"I get enough lectures from Lupin," he snarled, and Fabian was suddenly concerned by the flash of danger he saw there. His temper was like a match, Marlene'd warned him once, and once she'd explained what a match was he understood. Flaring up in an instant and out after it's burned through. "I can hold a couple Ogden's."

"Wouldn't be here if you could."

The man shrugged in idle exasperation. "You'd think a man can laugh aloud on his flying motorcycle without getting pulled over because a couple of whips think he's cloud cuckoo land material."

Fabian digested that. "Please never say that sentence again," he advised.

Black gazed back at him evenly.

Sighing, Prewett took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself. "What's there in your life to drive you to drink and fly?"

"What's there in life not to?" he countered noncommittally.

Fabian wasn't sure how to answer that. "What, particularly, _today_?"

The other man instinctively looked down at his empty hands. He let out a puft of air and leaned back on his heels, rocking a little as he slid his hands deep into his robe pockets.

Fabian waited him out, arms folded

"Look, are you gonna let me off or not, mate?"

"Depends on what you were doing with the nightswrath."

He blinked at him, his lids heavy but eyes startlingly sharp beneath them. "Oh?"

It was a soft exhale of a word but it gave Fabian the creeps. A quiet tone, a gentle tone was not a good sign when it came with storms in grey eyes. "Yes."

Sirius Black stared at his large, slender-fingered hands, luminescent in the dark and moonlight, and failed to respond.

Fabian's arms unfolded and he gestured exasperatedly as he spoke. " I am trying to help you out here, mate-"

"Since when're you a mate o' mine?" the man responded quietly, in a low tone as he looked up from hooded eyes.

"-because it isn't good for our side-"

The handsome man's lips twisted into a sneer as he interrupted. "Our side, is it now, when-"

"-for you to take deadly hallucinogenic tonics-"

"-you and _darling _Hestia-"

By the time Sirius completed his sentence one of Fabian's hands seared across his jaw.

Black recoiled from the punch but caught his balance. He lifted his chin, swiping away blood with the back of his hand. He eyed it critically. "Well, you're no Gideon," he remarked callously, straightening his robes.

Fabian swore, still not past the previous comment. "That was crude, Black."

"That was nothing, Prewett," he said frankly. "I know shit about Jones that'd make your toeragging eyeballs explode and I don't think much of you and-" he paused for some colorful interjections- "your fagging cowardice and I'm not about to pretend we're swell 'cause you had a bleeding change of heart, hear? _Mate_? So hold off on the chummy bit and don't you stand there and judge me."

"Leave off of Jones," Fabian said sharply.

"Not your girl but not fair game?"

"Not fair game," Prewett said, and he was forgiving because Black was drunk but if the man uttered another word he'd Obliviate him back to first year.

"I haven't taken any nightswrath," Black said suddenly, grey eyes still downcast.

"Why do you have it?"

"It's not mine."

"Why've you got it, Black?"

He shook his head and laughed and shook it some more. "Of all nights… this isn't a good night, Fay. Bad moon rising," and he started laughing at some joke only he could understand.

Prewett quickly decided that as Gideon had always maintained, Black wasn't hinged quite right. He didn't quite know what to do.

"We played Quidditch together, Black-"

"Yeah. Remember. Henh. The Ballless Wonder."

Fabian winced. That slump had only lasted for a brief spell. "The point being," he sighed, "I got your back. This once. And you're damn lucky I'm not Gideon."

Black nodded. "He hits harder."

He barely restrained the instinctive guttural sound in the back of his throat. "I'll take you to Potter's."

"No," Sirius whispered, almost regretfully. "Lily's pregnant. You know."

He knew.

"She needs sleep," he informed him, almost gently. "I'm supposed to kill any sort trying to wake her unless the world's ending. I don't want to have to off myself."

Good to know, Fabian thought, resisting the unprofessional urge to roll his eyes.

"Lupin's then," he said matter-of-factly, taking hold of Black's arm.

Sirius' death grip in response halted him in his tracks. "Oh," his eyes flashed darkly, "no. I should think not."

He restrained a groan. "Pettig-"

"It'd do in his old mum," he muttered.

Besides, Fabian recalled belatedly, Peter was guarding at the Bones' tonight.

"I'm not putting you up," he warned.

"I think I'm gonna retch," Sirius remarked calmly, releasing his grip on Fabian's arm.

He was just beginning to register offense at the apparent slight at his hospitality when the man stumbled away and proceeded doing so, and only then did Fabian wonder how much firewhiskey Black had actually consumed.

When he could speak again, and smelling yet worse, Black righted himself. "Have a flat," he croaked.

He eyed him up and down, from the flop of hair that crossed the wrong way over his otherwise straight part, the storm clouds in his unclear eyes, the spittle streaking across his chin marring the motion of Black's perfect teeth, all the way down his clean robes to his untied shoes.

"Dorcas Meadowes'?" Fabian offered hopefully.

He laughed his bitter choke of a laugh.

"The flat," Fabian sighed. "And I'm alerting Potter- I won't wake Lily!" he hissed impatiently as a confusedly horrified look made its way to Sirius' face.

"You gonna walk me home, Prewett?"

"Sadly that honor's going to a greenhorn." Mentally he noted to be sure it was a patrolman and not a patrolwoman.

He lifted his wand in signal and two whips popped up behind him, warily waiting at safe distance.

"Nifty," Sirius commented. "Does that work with girls?"

"No."

"You tried it?"

"No."

"Enh, sodding lying cur."

"Son of a bitch," Fabian denounced, with some choice adjectives.

Sirius smiled and out of the side of his mouth muttered, "Arse."

"Gid's the arse, I'm the prick."

He eyed him muzzily. "Prick," he agreed positively, and swerved politely towards the waiting whips.

Fabian watched him stiffly walk away. "Black. Hey, Black!"

Black slowed but failed to stop.

"Did you love her?" Prewett called after him, his soft, wincing tone turning somewhat accusingly. "Did you even- " He broke off.

Sirius turned back, head over the shoulder, expression unreadable.

"She died this time last year."

The expression did not change; if there was surprise it was well-hidden.

He stared evenly back at the shadowy figure in front of him, at the taller thinner man.

"You a Legilimens?" Sirius' rough voice asked, again in that almost gentle tone, though his eyes did not change.

"No."

His eyes blazed with sardonic bemusement and his lips sneered back into a grin.

His words echoed in the patrolman's ears as he turned slyly away towards his waiting escorts.

"_Well_. Guess you'll never know."

His shoulders were stiff as he strode with a hitch in his easy walk but no stumble.

Fabian Prewett shook himself and wondered what had possessed him to ask such a damn fool question. Even when the other bloke was drunk, the other bloke was still a Black.

He did not sleep well that night or much at all.

They couldn't anymore, him and Gideon, when it could be Molly next, and Arthur with his bleating ideas about Muggle radios being announced at the Ministry to all the world and Wilkes.

There was no peace to be found anymore, no warm bed, woman, or whiskey or any combination of the three that could ease the death and danger. But since they were the Prewett boys, they attempted it anyhow.

Never much, though.

When the calls came they had to be ready.

One night they sat guarding the Burrow, sipping a shared bottle of Ogden's for their splintering nerves. A drop and a touch, never much, firewhiskey was too strong to meddle with in large doses.

Gideon looked up from his position sprawled amidst the fledgling vegetable garden as a Patronus shaped like a great bull charged towards them. He leaped to his feet, casting the bottle aside.

Fabian studiously examined a gnome attempting to sidle by him, then carelessly drop-kicked it while his brother hustled towards Bones' Patronus. It went flying and crashed into the shed wall with a "squeeeeeeeeeeee thud".

Gideon turned about, face grim as the silvery guardian faded into the dark. "We'd best hurry," he said ominously.

They Apparated at once to Brighton, finding themselves beneath a starry sky marred by the great green skull which in the eerie flickering of flame seemed almost to be drinking the smoke pouring upward from the house.

"Damn," Gideon bit, voice curling with hate.

There was a shout of a deadly spell to their left and they sprinted towards it. A dark-haired young man dove behind some trashbins to avoid the red spell that clanged off the tin in a deflection.

Without speaking the spell aloud to give himself away Gideon shot a stunner at the robed figure attacking James Potter.

Fabian looped around to give James a hand up, only to find the younger man on his feet and James' wand shoved at his throat in a jerk reaction.

The orange glow pouring from the house enflamed the red strands in Fab's golden hair, brought color to his cheeks. Potter, recognizing him, removed it.

His eyes were desperate behind his glasses. "Lily's inside," he said curtly without preamble.

The boy's wife was four months pregnant. Fabian gaped, then was tackled by James as another black hooded form shot a curse at them from behind.

Gideon surprised his original opponent, attempting to suffocate him with the Choking Curse, with a swift "_Flipendo_" Knockback spell and a stomping kick to the unseen face as the Death Eater hit the ground

"Go," Fabian told James Potter as the remaining Death Eaters charged.

He shook his head. "She's fine," he said firmly, lips trembling slightly.

A wall of the house suddenly exploded outward, and a coughing red-headed figure became apparent, rushing towards them.

"Told you," James managed. His lips were still trembling. "_Stupefy_!"

Fabian elbowed an advancing Death Eater where he presumed his nose was, then brought down his fist like a hammer in a more tender area. The momentum and force of the motion stopped the gasping goon in his tracks as Fab exclaimed "_Protego_!" to block a spell shot from one of the Death Eaters grappling with Gideon. His brother shoved one off and edged backwards towards Fabian, their backs colliding as they prepared to fight from both sides.

There was a sharp, sickening crack as Lily Evans brought down the immense and afire pin oak from the Bones' yard down on the three Death Eaters following after Gideon with an incredibly effective Severing Charm.

A tendril of hair whipped against her face like a flame and more locks clung to her beaded brow, and although her robes were smoking, her pale face was as stolid as stone as she levitated a Death Eater into the air by his ankle.

James muttered "_Rictusempra_," sending a Death Eater leveling his wand at his wife into a fit of convulsive laughter, then swiveling sharply on his heel and snapping out "_Nullus_," as a high-voiced Death Eater began "_Fini_-"

An accented voice called, "_Incendio_!" and fire exploded at James' feet, but before he could even lift his wand, Lily had doused it and Gideon was lunging forward to duel the Death Eater.

Luckily Fabian was on his heels, he barely knocked his brother and himself forward and out of the way as the Death Eater's wand jetted a whip-like purple light that darted towards them.

They sprang to their feet even as Lily was forced to let the Death Eaters spinning in the air fall to earth so that she could put out the gusts of fire blasting her way.

At once the collective hoard of them Disapparated with a crack! leaving their pinned comrades beneath the tree as the Apparition wards fell and Ministry of Magic WHPs and Aurors began to pop onto the scene.

James was by Lily instantly; she was white past milk and cream and into the chalk shades.

"They got them," she said dully, tilting her head towards the still flaming house while Fabian hustled over to clear things with the Ministry wizard.

James rubbed at a large red welt on his head and managed in the process to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. "Was afraid of that," he said wearily, and pressed his lips into her hair.

Gideon fixed his gaze on the glowing green mark floating above the house. "Well," he sighed, letting his hand fall, and there was nothing really more to say.

Some nights, when again there were dead children and dead friends and another fruitless effort, he really wondered why they bothered.

Another member of the Order and his family targeted and killed when the fewest numbers could come to aid, with the well-placed wards pushed through as easily as cobwebs.

_They knew who they were_.

It could be Molly next.

Gideon Prewett went over, pulled off the mask of a Death Eater firmly unconscious beneath a tree, and kicked a Rosier cousin once or twice before the rest of the Hit Patrol carted him away.

It hurt a smidge less maybe, to think about the way the light had glinted off Edgar's bald spot and gold tooth when he'd poured him and Fabian their first firewhiskeys, and the way the deep amber liquid glistened in its glass as the big man handed it over, after watching the smarmy little murdering bastard writhe in discomfort as he was carted away.

"Hurts a little less," he agreed when Fabian filled up his glass later.

"Like a wound that's slowly healing?" his brother wondered.

Gideon snorted. "Like I really have to piss and everytime I get a little relief, it's that much better and that much worse. You follow?"

Fabian shrugged and settled into the worn green chair beside him, twiddling his wand between the fingers of his free hand. He brought the glass to his mouth. "Will after a couple shots of this."

The younger twin laughed, the kind of laugh with eyes burning when the sound burbles up out of sheer instinct. He flicked his wand and the bottle bobbed over. "I wonder when our turn'll be."

Fabian froze, swallowing, then forced out a slight chortle. "Cheerful. I thought you were the optimist."

"I am." He grinned, flashing the dimples the Hogwarts girls had loved. "A couple of wonderfully proportioned blond Aurors'll show up in the nick of time."

His older brother eyed him over his drink. "We're talking girls, right?"

Gideon groaned and raised his brows. "With me? It's the one certainty of existence."

"Can't fault a man for clarifying." Idly he tossed a throw pillow at Gideon.

"Faulted blokes for less," he growled as he hurled the pillow back. It hit Fabian's drink, splashing it onto his robes.

The slighter man swore and swatted at him, and Gideon dove to snatch up the pillow to defend himself.

For the fight they had to be stone but with each other, they could always crack.


	4. Wake

_Gideon and Fabian Prewett were indeed Molly's brothers, but their history is not particularly significant in terms of the overall plot, except that their deaths do provide some explanation and excuse some of Mrs. Weasley's fears and her overprotective stance towards Harry. - _J.K. Rowling

* * *

_Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix:_

_"I see them d-d-dead all the time!" Mrs. Weasley moaned... "All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it... I'm just s-s-so worried..."_

_"Molly, that's enough," said Lupin firmly. "This isn't like last time... we're much better off then we were last time, you weren't in the Order then, you don't understand..."_

_ "No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em... an' he'd killed some o' the best witches and wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts-"_ - _Hagrid_

* * *

"It's a shame, they were such handsome boys…"

_Gideon had an alright face, little-boy round and freckle sprinkled, among them one perfect circle, browner than the rest on the curve of his cheek while Fabian had one just like it on the very tip of his identical, slightly upturned nose. An identifying mark his mother had noted with a sigh of relief before Fabian's blonde-red hair darkened to an auburn brown while Gideon's stayed the strawberry shade that looked dirty blonde in the light. He would claim it glistened like gold; it didn't really but it had a soft, fine quality and he was clever enough to cut it so it hung about his face, a leonine mane._

_He grew into a narrower face, squared at the sides and lean in the jaw, with a dimple in his right cheek that showed when he grinned, which he always did, carrying a quirky sort of winning charm and relaxed demeanor that won him friends and dates his relatively good looks couldn't have assured. Fabian was warmer and friendlier and talked equally to everyone and a certain sort of girl liked him better, but most of them were head over heels for Gideon before they could even properly tell them apart._

_When Gideon was six, a friend of his grandfather's attending his birthday party, creaky with age and relying on a walking stick, nudged Mr. Prewett. "He's got the look of an Auror, that boy of yours."_

_Molly Prewett overheard him, the delighted, shriveled old man with wisps of hair clinging to his wrinkled dome beside her tall strong father, and shuddered with apprehension. Her father laughed, beaming, but shook his head dismissively. "Well, his mother reckons he looks like trouble, but we'll see who turns out right."_

They hadn't been boys in a long time, but Arthur Weasley weakly smiled and bowed his head in an almost nod.

Molly stood beside him as the wizards and witches awkwardly shuffled into a line, but it was Arthur they turned to as they approached, gaze skittering away from his wife. Her eyes were redder than her hair and she uttered soft sobs from minute to minute. She bounced the baby on her hip, a guard between her and the world, keeping her face buried in his fringe of sweet-smelling red hair

Ron's hair hadn't been dry in three days.

A strapping black man Weasley didn't know was next in line. "Sorry for your loss," he said somewhat brusquely, nodding in a sympathetic, friendly way. "They were great boys. Good men."

"Yes," Arthur said slowly, wearily, maintaining his continual head bob. "Good men."

_Fergus Fawcett came nearer to dying than any one player in the forty years of Hogwarts Quidditch history when Gideon intentionally hit him in the nose with a Bludger._

_Fabian had set his broom on fire earlier in the game but it had been doused quickly enough, with penalties properly assessed, but Gideon's hit was a fair one._

_It sent the bone splintering up in such a direction into his Ravenclaw brain that it was only a quick action from seventh year Ravenclaw Chaser Vance that saved his life when in an angry attempt to Stun Gideon she had hit Fawcett by mistake, effectively freezing him by which time Pomfrey was on the field and Hooch had him._

_In the end he only had a concussion and Gideon was lauded as a hero._

_It was a brutal, bloody hit that had the crowd roaring and was talked about for weeks as a real conversation piece._

_Fawcett felt embarrassed, as if he was proved somehow not tough enough._

_Some nights Gideon still felt ill when he thought about it. _

"It's- we'll get them," the black man, Shackle-something in the Auror department, said, voice cracking slightly, and Arthur realized how young the big man was. He hadn't even thought Gideon and Fabian had particularly liked any Aurors. "We'll get the bastards who did it."

Yes, and I'll show up at work in Molly's nightshirt, Arthur thought bitterly to himself. "You'll get Him eventually," he agreed and Shackle-the-Auror nodded and passed by.

_Hestia would ask teasingly, when they were together, if Fabian had stopped any bad guys that night._

_Sometimes he'd tell her a tidbit or something but usually he'd just lean over and kiss her forehead. "Well," he said defensively. "I've always got tomorrow."_

Arthur didn't know Hestia Jones that well, she'd been several years behind him and he vaguely remembered seeing her about with the Fawcett boy who'd married a cousin of his recently.

The circles under her eyes were very dark but her robes very crisp, head high, so he was very startled when she flung her arms around him and kissed him on each cheek, muttering her regrets before fluttering off very quickly, shoulders heaving.

He had never seen her without a smile before, he realized later, and he didn't think he ever saw her without one again.

_She was a prefect and she'd caught them with handfuls of Dungbombs at night._

_They'd left with stinging welts oozing pus but with the Dungbombs and without detention or punishment of any kind._

_They appreciated the excellence of the jinx almost as much as keeping the Dungbombs. It wasn't as if they had a lot of pocket money to spend on much of anything really, and if they'd been confiscated without ever being used the twins would have been devastated._

_Her stern warning left a slight smiling lift to the left corner of her mouth, leaving a dent that was almost a dimple below her cheek on that side._

_Gideon declared that night he'd marry her and ended up wrestling with Fabian, who was deathly afraid that Gideon would._

_Gideon forgot her the next morning when he went to the nurse for the bruise from Fabian cheerfully bashing him into a statue of Grady the Grim and decided that Poppy Pomfrey had to be part siren._

_Fabian remembered every time she smiled at him in the halls, and every time she didn't notice he was there, even when he was seeing someone else._

One young man shook his hand in a death grip. "I'm James," he said fiercely, blinking behind his glasses. "I- was on their Quidditch team, in school."

"Yes, hullo," managed Arthur.

James hesitated, wanting to say something more.

_James Potter thought Gideon Prewett was terrific up to the point when he realized the reason Lily Evans, age fourteen, had decided to begin attending practices of a sport she had heretofore shown an utter lack of interest in._

_After that, Gideon temporarily surpassed Snape on James' personal death list._

_Sirius was only too happy to help._

_It was somewhat embarrassing for the two of them to share a table at Puddifoot's, darkly glowering at the table shared by Evans and Prewett. They looked awfully cozy, too._

_When Gideon leaned in to kiss her, James, scandalized, upended a pitcher of butterbeer on his head with a jerk of his wand._

_Furiously Prewett dove for his prized Chaser, wand out to curse him, only to realize he was about to damage his prized Chaser._

_The Beater he had reluctantly and against his better judgment allowed onto the team just this year seized this opportunity to brain him._

_Evans, furious, drew her own wand._

_For their interference with her date, Potter and Black spent the better part of a week incapable of sitting down without immense pain._

_Gideon spent a night in the hospital wing and almost three months dating Lily Evans, before he realized that between the fury of Marlene, Sirius' resentment, and Potter's depression, he was going to lose the match._

_Lily was pretty, and she'd get even prettier, but he was not about to lose to Wilkes._

_She did not take it well, but got over it, though it took her years to forgive her dormmate McKinnon, his next girlfriend, who she'd never liked that much anyhow._

_Fabian thought the whole affair was hysterical._

"They flew well," he blurted out desperately. "And Gid dated my wife once- before she was my wife, obviously, I'd have k-" He caught his breath, noticing the strange looks, and stopped. "I- we, like- liked them a whole lot, is all. My w- Lily, my wife, she wanted to be here, but she's near on nine months along- and…"

"Thank you for coming," said Arthur kindly, despite his weariness.

The boy, the Potter kid he thought, blinked again. "Yes, well, the pair of 'em, they could have flown for England. When they put their mind on something… Gid and Fab were nigh on unstoppable. I- sorry for your loss, Mrs.- Molly-"

She muffled a sob and forced a teary smile.

He shuffled off with a bob of his head, looking very young and lanky.

It was a haze of faces and words to Molly but the sentiment was the same. Good chaps, so sorry, right good heroing.

"_My brave strong heroes," Sirius Black snapped sarcastically. He was stiff and furious. His wand hand stayed ready at his side. At just twelve he was as tall as the twins. _

_Fabian arched a brow._

"_What a snip you are," Gideon returned calmly, twiddling his own wand with practiced grace and tucking it behind his ear. "Grat-it-tude, Black, the concept may be a bit advanced for you-"_

_He interrupted sullenly. "Didn't ask for your help."_

"_-ickle firstie that you are-," Fabian continued._

"_-we'll forgive your lack of manners this time."_

"_Next time we'll let the Slytherins pummel you to blithereens, mm, Gideon?" _

"_Right-o, Fab. Send flowers to the funeral."_

"_How'd you feel 'bout roses?"_

"_Personally I like daisies. Black?"_

_He stared back at them, eyes dark._

_"Right," continued Gideon eventually. "Right then. Well, make a habit of avoiding the sort of scum that apparently wants you helping to push them darling daisies up-"_

_"-Except at family reunions-"_

_"Naturally-"_

_Black's wand rose and the reaction was simultaneous._

_"Expelliarmus!"_

_He fell back onto the stones of the hall and slid back several feet._

_Sirius found himself looking up at the twins, Gideon holding out a hand to help him up and Fabian offering him his wand back._

_"We're gonna be friends now?" he sneered, scrambling to his feet and snatching his wand back. His other hand absently rubbed his sore back. _

_"You are a Gryffindor," Gideon affirmed._

_"Godric knows why," his twin added._

_"Godric probably does know why…"_

_"Mmm, good point."_

_Sirius glared, muttered something that sounded like "'m not," and turned on his heel and stalked away, wiping blood from his nose._

_"Never said thank you!" Fabian shouted after him._

"Your brothers saved my life," a blue-eyed witch told Molly urgently, lifting her hand as if they were friends. As if she knew this stranger her brothers had saved some day or night, as if her own life meant something more than the dozen others they saved. They liked saving things, Kneazlettes and Cruppies and Muggles and girls. There were advantages to saving girls.

"I'm glad," she lied in a drained reply, although she wasn't.

Saving others meant nothing in the end when no one had saved them. No one to the rescue and nothing but each other at the end.

She still didn't believe it. The cold clammy hands and blank bland faces were not Gideon and Fabian.

Her brothers were whip-quick, smart, strong, good-looking friendly charming boys. Her boys.

Brave too.

She loved them for it, but the whispering voice lurking behind her grief muttered wishes they hadn't been so brave.

_The sight of Hogwarts Castle rising up above the misted lake, a thin moon like a nail clipping seemingly hanging from the battlements, sent a chill through Fabian that had nothing to do with the water on his seat soaking into his pants. Gideon's eyes were aglitter, color indistinguishable from his own, positively quivering with excitement. _

_For the first time since he realized the Puffskein he'd thrown off the roof was going to die when it hit the ground, Fabian felt dread. _

_It was granted he'd be a Gryffindor, he told himself, knowing it to be true. He had the guts and all of that stuff and nonsense he'd been told they needed, if he'd been told once he'd been told twelve dozen he was much too impetuous. Hurling himself off the roof to correct his miscalculation that Puffskeins can fly had managed to ultimately make amends, after all. He didn't doubt himself._

_No. He was brave. _

_He glanced at his brother, who whistled slowly as he drank in the full size of the castle. _

_Fabian squared his shoulders. As brave as Gideon at least._

Molly had always hoped her sons would take after her brothers, but better behaved. Her brothers were wonderful, once they stopped tormenting Arthur. Toned down the "Art"s and "Arties" and "Arnold"'s and "Attaboys" and the "Your Majesty" this and that and following them suspiciously down the halls. She loved them slightly more when she didn't have to worry about first year brothers busting into broom closets after her.

With every new voice the word hero bounced around in her ears, over and over until she despised it, hoped her boys would not be heroes, not be reckless, be quiet, restrained, perfect, intelligent children.

Anything but brave.

She didn't want them to die heroes. She wanted her sons, her brothers, alive, happy. She wanted nieces and nephews with red hair and freckles on their cheeks and slightly upturned noses and big round baby cheeks with a dimple in the right when they smiled.

Molly let out a sob, clutching Ron close, and Arthur looked over with a depth of understanding in his eyes, for he'd lost brothers too, though not to heroism, but to equally foolish.

She whispered in her baby's perfect little ear and hoped life would not put dangers in his paths, no suffering or need to be brave, and that when it did, despite a mother's prayer, that it would not be him. Not his brothers. That they would live long, happy fattening lives, not young fast deaths with tears and empty consoling words like "handsome" and "hero" in their wake.

Not to be heroes.

Not to be foolish.

Not to die.

_When it was over, when the sister and her husband and the small stumbling redheaded boys- the oldest looked like a slimmer redder miniature Gideon- had left, the last to go in their painstakingly clean black robes, a dark young man went and stood on the hill and talked to the stones._

_"I don't go to funerals," he said, sticking his hands in his robe pockets._

_It was almost an apology but he was not the sort of young man who apologized._

_"It didn't mean anything that I didn't go to yours. Not even my friends…"_

_He paused, for he had precious few friends and none of them were dead._

_Yet._

_He fidgeted slightly from side to side. "Well, we did have some unfinished business. You and me. Mostly Gideon I suppose. Not that I liked you a great deal either," he addressed Fabian. "Owed you both a couple of blows, probably. A thank you or two."_

_He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Podmore thinks I'm the reason you're both dead. Some of the others too I reckon. They're buggered if they think I- and never even noticing that Lup-"_

_He blew air out of the corner of his lips in frustration. "I'm no snitch, anyhow. Never even caught one. Not that it matters what you think. Thought."_

_He shrugged his shoulders as if that settled it, fiddled with his wand, and turned to go._

_He stopped._

_"If it'd been anyone it'd have been her," he muttered. His eyes were fixated on the moisture-ridden grass, not the fresh dirt._

_"Thought that after all you deserved to know," he said hurriedly, a harsh discordant note back in his tone._

_He walked quickly away and never looked back._


	5. Twins

__

"...they fought like heroes."

* * *

He remembered wanting to be a hero and wondered what this fight was making him.

Heroes? Heroes were supposed to get the girl- a girl at any rate- and the glory and thanks and sometimes a spiffy medallion, not this hard bright death.

It was Dolohov, Rosier, the bigger Lestrange brother, Bellatrix Black- no wait, Lestrange- and Wilkes.

He was a little bit proud of that.

He hadn't warranted the best, perhaps, and he hadn't gotten the Bastard himself, but it wasn't some silky devil like Lucius Malfoy who was going to do him in.

It was the hard-hitters. The dangerous goons. The smart ones, too, not some henchmen like Macnair or Gibbon.

The bloody fucking warriors.

Maybe he wasn't going to be a hero, but he was a fighter anyhow.

The curse slammed him back into the bar of the Green Dragon tavern. It struck him at the base of the spine, where the tail bone might start.

His face slammed into the glasses, and he came up roaring mad, pieces of glass cutting deep into his freckled cheeks in a streak of pain too sudden and fast to ache, just burn around the eyes.

His wand was already up and blasting backwards before he even got himself turned around.

The unspoken Expelliarmus spell knocked one of the masked figures into the wall, and Fabian leaped forward to catch the man's wand. With his own wand he set off a Patronus charm to call for help, the bear surging in a burst of light which faded out alarmingly quickly.

Gideon always brought backup.

The tavern had only had the last of the late-night stragglers before. They were fleeing by now, out the door; Fabian tackled the lone womanly Death Eater blasting killing curses about.

He was blown off her just as swiftly by a rushing purple spell from the largest fellow that brushed against his shoulder.

He cried out once before staggering back to his feet, barely, nearly collapsing again as he lost both wands.

Alarm for his brother did not strike Gideon, who was too preoccupied to notice, entangled by a Choking Curse as he simultaneously tried to hold off figures he knew to be Rosier and Wilkes, deflecting the Diffindo spell back at them with his shield.

He threw off the Suffoco spell and tried to Apparate but discovered, as expected, anti-Apparition wards were already set in place.

He had been stupid, very stupid, to half-trust Sirius Black.

Peter Pettigrew had relayed the message to meet the man here, to discuss the dilemma of the spy. Black had information.

He ducked a blast of red light and rolled, catching sight of Fabian flailing.

Fab was alright, though. "_Accio_!" he boomed in his brokering-no-nonsense-I'm-older-by-three-minutes-and-eleven-seconds voice.

The wand leaped to his hand. Fabian was good at Summoning.

Undistracted, Gideon Banished the hulking figure he knew was Rabastan Lestrange and knocked him into Wilkes with a trace of pleasure.

They had their talents, the Prewett brothers.

Gideon deflected a spell from Rosier, barely and with a sweat, because it was green, and turned in time to catch in the corner of his eye a whiplike streak of purple.

It brought him to his knees.

Wilkes pulled off his mask, beads of sweat on his face, sandy brown hair stuck by moisture to his young features twisted by menace, and muttered, "_Locomotor Mortis_."

He gasped for a breath as his legs locked, lunged forward and grabbed Wilkes' ankle, yanking hard to bring the man down. The Death Eater's booted foot slapped hard against his bleeding face but he didn't notice. His Diffindo curse slashed hard into Rosier's arm, the man- boy- Evan was a few years behind him- cried out, swearing viciously, and withdrew to try and repair the damage.

Fabian tumbled in a world of darkness, struggling to keep his feet, and stared into the eyes of the stunningly beautiful dark girl who was taking great pleasure in using the Cruciatus Curse upon him.

Rabastan knocked Gideon hard against the ground with a spell that hit like a backhand slap. He tumbled over, winded, only to have the big man step on his chest. Wilkes leaped for his wand, Gideon squeaked out a "_Furnunculus_," and watched as the man positively exploded with enormous sprouting mushrooms.

It didn't stop Wilkes, he grabbed Gideon's wrist and pried at his fist.

Gideon started to mutter "_Suffo_-" but was hit with the Choking Curse himself first.

Dolohov, eyeing both Prewett brothers from his position in the heart of the struggle, with his wand pinning Fabian with the same Cruciatus Curse Bellatrix was administering, turned his attention for a moment towards snapping Gideon's wrist with a quickly bitten word in a language that might have been Russian or German but was probably Ukrainian.

The pain seared for a moment and then his hand went numb, the wand pulled from his tightened fingers.

Crap.

They didn't take Fabian's.

Business-like, Dolohov snapped his own fingers in a commanding gesture with the dull sound of leather against leather and Bellatrix and Rosier, who was still nursing his arm and with his own mask now off, administered the Cruciatus Curse once more.

The scream tearing from Fabian's throat reminded Gideon of the Kneazle he'd once seen tormented by some first year Slytherins in Hogsmeade.

"_Imperio_," Dolohov oozed in his accented voice, and Fabian turned jerkily to face him in response.

_Kill your brother._

_Kill him._

_Kill Gideon Prewett._

Fabian was in a floating world, contentment racing through him, and then the pain yanked him back, before he was restored to the soft, mind-clouding space with the gentle voice that wanted him to do something.

His hand was shaking and he couldn't imagine why, he didn't know why he was stepping forward jerkily, and then he was staring down at a pinned, desperate man, hollow-cheeked and flint-eyed.

He wondered if he knew him.

_Kill your brother._

His brother?

The wand rose.

"_Av_-"

The man was saying something, mouthing something, and for some reason he pictured him dancing, smirking and smiling.

Fabian Prewett spun on his heel and the word "_Sectumsempra_!" leaped from his throat and struck Rabastan Lestrange, who began bleeding profusely.

Stupid to leave him his wand.

He charged forward, bowled Wilkes out of the way, muttered Finite Incantatem and reached to pull Gideon up.

Gideon was already up, springing to his feet and wrestling for his wand with his one good hand, but he lifted the thumb of his limp one in a thumbs-up.

Bellatrix Lestrange was trying to kill him, Fabian realized as he moved quickly away and fiercely thought "_Protego_" but all of a sudden he was engulfed in red light, Stupefied with a lazy flick of Dolohov's wand.

Rosier hit Gideon with Crucio as he paused in his deflections to release his brother; he stumbled but did not fall.

They fought for a moment or an eternity longer. Gideon dove behind the bar and fired spells, picturing he was hitting Sirius Black and trying to remember if Wilkes' first name was Roy or Headley. Fabian bobbed and weaved and tried desperately to avoid Dolohov.

Bellatrix struck him eventually, with Petrificus Totalus, of all things, and Rabastan yanked Gideon forward while Fabian watched, fending off Rosier and Wilkes. If he hesitated he did not show it.

"How're you doing, ickle Prewie?" Bellatrix crooned as she leaned forward, her curtain of soft near-black hair brushing against his cheek, to idly drive a still-clinging piece of glass deeper into his cheek.

He managed to spit at her, so Rabastan, with deep pleasure, bashed in his teeth.

She pulled back, still close enough he could see the whites of her eyes. "Who do you think you are?" she hissed.

Somehow he broke the Petrification. Every ounce of magic in his being was poured towards the sole thought Finite Incantatem, and to their surprise he rolled away.

"I'm Gideon Prewett," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing on the world, even though he was on the floor and about to die.

Fabian surged over, grabbed his shoulder, pulled him to his feet, their backs met defensively. "That's Fabian," Gideon explained giddily, with an empty-handed gesture.

He had no wand.

The unmasked Death Eaters smirked and circled.

One looked left, one looked right, and they waited.

"Lousy lookout you are, prick," Gideon muttered gently.

"Some hero, arse," Fabian answered warmly, and that was better than any I'm sorries or I love yous because that mushiness would be somewhat embarrassing, after all, in the here and now.

Besides some things don't need to be said.

When you're twins it's simply understood.

It was Dolohov who said the words that pulled them apart.

The boy fell, crumpled hard and fast in a burst of purple light.

Prewett stared and started to bend but then leapt, diving forward, and he was smashed down. He fought and raged but they broke him, as the spells hit again and again.

He fell but he hit back, and their faces swam in his mind, and he knew no help was coming.

There was a sheer second, in the midst of the Cruciatus Curses and the Severing Charms he tried to dodge, where he thought he might be able to Apparate away, when a voice screamed in his mind to run, but he hurt and his brother was dead and there was nothing left to do but fight back.

He thought he got Wilkes. He didn't know, never know, but there was a look in the man's eye when he reeled back that made him think that was it, that Wilkes wouldn't be standing up again. He thought he got Wilkes…

He choked out one name when they had the Imperius Curse on him.

"… members of the Order of the Phoenix?"

He stared at them with his dark eyes under his floppy hair, bleeding. "E-e-e-" he choked out.

"E-evan Rosier." He tossed a perfect Prewett smirk at them.

Disgusted, the man made to hit him, and Fabian swore loudly, cursed them blackly with all the words he'd ever picked up and all the names he'd ever heard women call Gideon and a few more too.

He'd have done Marlene proud.

He never heard what they said, saw what they decided, though he wondered what they planned to do with Gideon's body, what they planned to do with his, and then he heard a shout.

The voice might have been Potter's.

The Death Eaters, which he hazily thought was such a silly name, those great Swallowers of Decease, Demise Devourers, looked down on him, and Antonin Dolohov sneered and opened his twisted mouth.

There was a great rush of green and all he could think of was Molly and the baby and Billy and Charlie and George and Freddie- oh, Fred and George, what little rapscallions and would they remember him and Emmeline and Mack, Gideon had god-damn loved Mack and if-if-if-if-if… he wondered when he last kissed Hestia, he wondered what he said to Molly, he thought he heard Sirius Black saying something, what was he saying…?

Damn fool, he thought, and then he died.

Gideon blinked and saw blood.

There was no one around, no noise. He was on the floor.

He blinked again, and hazily he saw Fabian's still form.

He looked asleep.

Oh, thought Gideon dozily. "Fab," he tried to say, but he choked, there was a tangy liquid in his mouth, metallic taste, not so bad.

He reached an arm out to his brother, or tried to, but Fabian was so far away and his arm simply wouldn't move.

He tried to breathe and got the taste again, and remembered it, the blood taste he'd gotten when he'd broken his nose a couple times before.

His chest heaved but there was no air, no air, and he tried to say his brother's name again, tried to swear, and the effort made his eyes well.

He knew he was imagining it, as his eyes fluttered again, but he thought he heard Molly yelling at him and Sirius Black laughing, and a soft voice in his ear.

Wasn't it great, he wanted to tell Fabian, he was gonna see Marlene again…

Everything was bright and dark all at once, and he heard footsteps, real solid footsteps.

Maybe he was a hero, he thought, and slept.


End file.
